


All Those Nights in Neigbourville

by to_mar



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Plants vs Zombies, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Gen, Growing Up, POV Alternating, Pre-Apocalypse, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_mar/pseuds/to_mar
Summary: Nighttime in Neighbourville is quiet. Cicadas aren't native to the dry suburban landscape, and the manicured and unkempt lawns of the town are free of the constant nighttime leitmotifs that characterize a coming of age film. Wilbur sits on his roof and imagines being a protagonist. He lays on the slippery tiles and thinks hard about being important to a plot he doesn't know. The call of the night never comes, and the background music never plays. He sits up and tries hard to manifest a dramatic scene in his own head. He looks silly sitting on his roof in the middle of autumn, with no sweater on. The lone street lamp at the end of the drive is dim--he knows it's time to go back inside.The year before the first wave of zombification hits Neighbourville told though the perspectives of three teenage boys in their last year of high school.Part 1: Neighbourville is Quiet--Music in the weirdest places.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	All Those Nights in Neigbourville

Neighbourville is always quiet. Even when the first waves came in summer, and as the months progressed and the unending barrage of undead grew larger--Neighbourville is always quiet.

Monday, the first week of September. The school bell rings over the intercom, dislodging the dust accumulated through disuse from the crackling speaker system. The motes settle like a fine film on the students and their belongings, while coating the hallways and classrooms with another layer of dirt to be cleaned by custodial staff. The last straggle of students enter their respective homerooms and the rows of lockers are shut, some with combination locks, others already only staying closed by pure luck and a prayer of hope.

The field outside the school is empty, and the flag in front of the school hangs limply. The wind rustles only a few leaves, as it drags along plastic bags and bottle caps through the sidewalks. The clouds hang lazily in the sky, not floating or passing by.

The first day of school is structured and silent.

Wilbur sits in the back of his first period class, in room 102. The two students read announcements on intercom, one voice holding a single note with no changes in pitch and timbre, the other loud and rubato, reigned in by the click track of the other emcee's voice. The seats to Wilbur's left and right are empty. The classroom is still in a way that only it can be--filled with the social giddiness and apathy of teenagers. At equilibrium, atempo. But with rhyme and reason.

Wilbur knows to duck as Jeremy Nguyen chucks a piece of paper at his head, and the wadded up ball lodges itself in Ida Thompson's newly natural hair. She blushes a deep plum and hides her face in her arms, burying her head into her desk. The paper sticks out of her coils, tangled in her carefully styled coiff. Jeremy's expression passes through varying stages of embarrassment and shame; he reaches out his hand towards Ida. Mr. Chamberlain takes notice from the front of the class. The next part of the suite begins.

Wilbur Soot is waiting. The announcements end as Jeremy is called from his seat and made to apologize to Ida. The first of what would be many times, Wilbur knew. Mr Chamberlain frowns at his students for the first time this semester and Wilbur counts along with the ticking clock above the doorway. People shuffle around in their seats uncomfortably as their teacher berates Nguyen.

Wilbur counts in doubletime along with the ticking of the clock. At 120 beats per minute, he wills the day to pass by quickly. The door bangs open as two boys bound inside.

One is tall, all gangly limbs, and proud enthusiasm; the other is even taller, and being dragged by his friend into their first period homeroom--this one is quieter.

Jangled by the forceful bang of the boys' entry, the clock falls from its spot above the doorway, its second hand ticking in constant time. Wilbur continues counting in doubletime. The tall boy screeches, a piercing thing, and Wilbur loses his count of the click track playing in his head.

Mr. Chamberlain lectures the boy about safety, whilst picking up and stowing away the fallen clock. The two boys shuffle their way across the rows of desks and settle in beside Wilbur. The desk to his left is claimed by a laughing boy, as he throws his bookbag haphazardly at his feet. The desk to Wilbur's right is filled by a boy writing diligently in his notebook. The class settles into a steady rythmn and Wilbur zones out. He hears the ticking of a watch somewhere to his right as he closes his eyes, the ticking lulls him to sleep.

It is always quiet in Neighbourville.


End file.
